Luckpenny Land (17 page)

Jack made love to her, as required, but more out of obligation than desire. It left a taste in his mouth as dry as ash.

But since he liked the idea of having a woman to look after him and needed to escape Kath, it had to be Meg. She was a worker, no doubt about that, and a damn good cook. And Meg adored him, didn’t she? It was important to a man, to be adored.

She had other delightful attributes of which she was only just becoming aware. He slid a hand up her skirt now and over her bare leg as she moved close by him. His fingers had very nearly found her crotch when she gave a smothered squeal and cast him a fierce look, making him choke on his pie as he laughed. Oh, yes, Meg got better and better. Kath would see how it had to be.

It was August, and Meg’s twenty-first birthday, so a holiday had been awarded. They were to climb to the top of Kidsty Pike for a picnic. Jack and Meg, Sally Ann and Dan, and Charlie. And Kath and Richard, of course.

‘Where’s Kath? She promised she’d be here.’

‘Don’t let’s waste time waiting for her,’ grumbled Dan, but Meg insisted and they all sat about in the August heat, kicking their heels and getting far too hot.

Three-quarters of an hour later, even Meg had very nearly run out of patience when Kath’s little Ford came bumping up the farm track. ‘Where have you been?’

She shrugged and apologised. ‘Richard isn’t coming. He’s busy.’ He’d refused her invitation. It was the first time he’d ever gone against Kath’s wishes and she’d been puzzled, so had gone to his house to find out why. Then a young girl had called to her from the French windows and all had been made clear.
 

Kath shivered, feeling oddly cold inside despite the heat. It wasn’t as if she loved him. It didn’t really matter. Except that it left this problem, still unsolved. Oh, to hell with it.

Linking hands with both Meg and Jack, she tossed back a sleek swathe of hair and laughed. ‘Come on, what are we waiting for? I’m starving.’

They walked for miles through lanes fringed with thick clusters of lady’s bedstraw, speedwell, pink campion and great yellow patches of celandines. Then on over the tough, sheep-cropped grass where the only touch of colour was the pale mauve of sweet-scented heather, thick with bees. For the last part they had to scramble over craggy rocks and rough scree to make the ascent but it was worth it, Meg thought, just for the exhilaration alone, let alone the view.

Here in the mountains she felt in tune with her world, a part of the green and blue beauty of it, laid out like a map before her. Far below, further away than it actually looked as distances were deceptive at this height, was the strung out blue-grey of Ullswater with the majesty of Helvellyn, Fairfield and Scafell beyond. And in the other direction lay the humble simplicity of Broombank and Ashlea. They lay along the edge of a long dale with Broombank at the apex of the ridge and Ashlea below, as if a giant thumb had scoured out a place for them.

‘How can anyone bear to leave this?’ Meg sighed, resting her chin on her knees as she gazed, contented, upon her beloved land.

‘I could,’ said Charlie, with quiet firmness. ‘If I could do what I most wanted.’

‘Which is?’ asked Kath, clearing stones and brushing the heather with her hands to make a comfy spot for herself so that everyone laughed at her. But she only pulled a face at her audience, spread a clean white handkerchief and laid her head upon it, fluffing her pageboy bob into place. ‘Go on, Charlie. I’m listening. What is it you want to do?’

‘Fly.’

‘Oh, me too,’ murmured Sally Ann softly. ‘Like a great heron, soaring high in the sky.’

‘More like a big fat buzzard if you keep on eating at that rate,’ Dan said, and got a swipe for his pains. Sally Ann was heard to mutter something about greedy husbands. But they seemed to be grinning at each other so that was all right.

‘You might well get your chance,’ put in Jack quietly, when the laughter had died down. ‘To fly, I mean. I listened to the news the other day. It wasn’t good. People are putting out sand bags and building Anderson shelters in their back yards in the towns and cities. Maybe we should get one?’

‘Where’d we put it and who would fly over here? Unless they’d taken a wrong turning and missed Barrow or Liverpool,’ said Dan, carelessly. ‘Can I have another cheese and pickle sandwich?’

Charlie stood up, his youthful idealism incensed by his brother’s offhand attitude. ‘Don’t you care? There’s plenty as say our bombers can win this war in a matter of months. It’s not a joking matter. If we don’t do something Hitler could walk all over us. And all you can think of is food in your belly. There could be people dying out there, in Europe.’ He waved a hand vaguely over the idyllic view and then brought it down to slap the hunk of bread and cheese from Dan’s hand and send it rolling downhill, bouncing over the crags and scree into Riggingdale below.

There was a short, shocked silence. Charlie was the quiet one, not easily roused to anger.

‘I’ve already registered as doing work of "national importance", if you want to know,’ Dan told him, getting slowly to his feet. ‘I’m a farmer, not a fighter, and I’ll not be bossed about by a young whippersnapper like you.’

‘All right, folks, that’s enough,’ Kath said, not moving an inch from her supine position on the heather but bringing all eyes upon her nonetheless by the authority in her tone. ‘Today has been declared a holiday so the rules are, no squabbling and no talk of war. Have we any cider left, Sal?’

‘Plenty.’ Sally Ann reached for a flagon, relieved to see Dan and Charlie sit down again, some distance from each other, but looking faintly ashamed of themselves.

‘I think Meg and I will take a short walk,’ said Jack. ‘If no one has any objection?’

It seemed nobody had, so hand in hand they strolled away, and kept walking until they’d put several hundred yards between themselves and the others.

Only Kath watched them go.

The roebucks were the only active creatures on this hot August day. As the rutting season progressed their sleek red bodies were constantly on the move, often breaking into wild love chases as they protected their territory and searched for a mate. Trees and bushes were often damaged by the thrusting antlers as an animal deposited its scent around the boundaries of its kingdom. But let a huntsman kill the guilty stag and a host of young predatory bucks would flow into the territory, worsening the problem. Landowning bucks respected boundaries. If only men would, Meg thought, recalling her father’s constant greed for more land.

She and Jack lay on the crisp, parched grass, staring up into a sky ribbed by soft cloud as white as snowy paw prints across the blue heavens. It was so hot even the birds were silent.

‘We must have taken in our best crop ever this year,’ she said. ‘I hope the kale and potatoes are as good.’ She let her eyes close so that the sun shone hotly through the lids.

Jack rolled over and tweaked her nose. ‘Why do we always have to talk about the farm? I’m sure there are better things we could be doing.’ He started to lift her skirt.

‘Be careful, someone will see.’ Meg artfully removed herself from his probing hands.

‘No, they’re miles away, I made sure of that.’ He started to kiss her and for a long while talk was unnecessary and unwanted.

She always felt so alive in Jack’s arms, so needed. She felt as if their love had made her grow as a woman in some mysterious way and he was now so much a part of her she would have trusted him with her life. The harshness of Joe’s taunts couldn’t touch her. Even Dan treated her with more respect.

‘What you were saying earlier, about not wanting to leave here. Did you mean it?’

Meg looked at him sharply but he kept his face turned away and a small kernel of fear ripened inside her. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I know you’ve taken it into your head to help me farm at Broombank. But what if I didn’t want to? Would it matter to you, if you had to give up the idea of living there?’

Meg stared at him for a long moment as a small pain started somewhere deep within and began, quite slowly, to grow and spread right across her chest. ‘Are you serious?’ She was amazed her voice could sound so steady.

‘You know I’ve never been as keen as you on farming. Would you mind if we didn’t?’

Meg had known well enough but had always hoped he would come round to it, so had pushed any reservations to the back of her mind. But if she had to give up her dream of being a sheep farmer, would it really matter, so long as she had Jack? There were other things in life besides sheep. He would surely be worth the sacrifice. But it was less easy to say so, out loud, than she could possibly have imagined. ‘I - I don’t know. To do what?’

Jack slipped his hands under his head and a faraway look came into his violet eyes as he stared up into the bright sky. ‘I’ve always had a fancy to travel. America, Australia, somewhere far away and exciting.’

‘Just because it’s far away from Westmorland, doesn’t make it exciting,’ Meg retorted, so abruptly he turned to look at her in surprise.

‘There’s nothing so very wonderful happening here.’

Meg was silent again as she considered the matter, then a thought occurred to her. ‘Australia might be all right. They have a lot of sheep there too.’

‘Sheep again.’ He pulled her close against him, making her squeal with delight, and when he kissed her he robbed her body of every vestige of breath, making her head fizz with emotion. ‘Say you’ll come with me to the ends of the earth, if I ask it. Go on, say it.’

The mellow atmosphere of the late afternoon, with the sun slipping slowly down the sky, the soft breeze upon her flushed skin and the warmth of Jack’s body beside hers, made her feel romantic and generous.

After the slightest pause she obeyed. ‘I’ll come with you to the ends of the earth, if you ask it.’

Jack was anxious to have the matter settled between them. The way Kath had been looking at him lately had made him increasingly nervous. He spoke next with a show of idle innocence. ‘We could talk about your birthday instead, which is why we’re here, if I’m not mistaken?’

Meg peeped at him from beneath her lids and her heart warmed to see his lazy smile. So he hadn’t forgotten.

‘Close your eyes again,’ he ordered, and when she mildly protested, he got up and started to walk away from her in long loping strides down the hill. ‘Okay, if you don’t want it.’

She was forced to scramble to her feet and run after him. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t go. You can give it to me now.’ She lunged for him, laughing, missed the first time then caught at his shirt with her hand and they were both falling and rolling over and over through a tangle of tall bracken, locked together. His mouth clamped tight to hers and desire flooded through her as it always did at his touch.
 

Then with her eyes tightly closed he was putting something into her hands and her fingers moved wonderingly, almost reverently, over the small square shape she held. Her heart leaped into her throat and for a moment she dare not open her eyes, dare not open the tiny leather box just in case it was not what she wanted it to be. For she knew she could never bear the disappointment if it was no more than an ordinary ring. He would see it in her face. She couldn’t hide it this time, as she had at Christmas.

But she need not have worried. The tiny sapphire winked brightly in the summer sun and even as she hesitated, Jack lifted it out and slipped it on to the third finger of her left hand.

‘It was my mother’s.’

All she could do was look at him, aware of the tears rolling down her cheeks.

‘Hey. I thought you’d be happy.’

‘Oh, I am, I am.’ Meg threw her arms about his neck, crying with delight, and then he was kissing away each tear.

It was the hardest thing she had ever done not to let him make love to her there and then but as she explained so carefully to him, it would be a pity to get carried away by the romance of the moment and make a mistake, when they’d come this far.

‘Best to wait,’ she insisted.

‘Isn’t the ring proof enough I mean to wed you?’ Jack asked, frustration warring with his pride in catching such a lovely bride. ‘If you loved me, you wouldn’t wait.’ He slipped a hand over her dress to caress her breast. Meg pushed it gently away and kissed him lingeringly.

‘Bribery won’t work, Jack Lawson. You know I love you. But I can’t relax, I can’t just -let it happen - not until we’re married. Then it will seem right. Try to understand.’

‘I don’t understand at all. It didn’t worry you in the barn that time. You’re mine already, really, so what’s the problem?’ His arms came around her again and she wriggled out of them.

‘You know why it happened then. It was a mistake. It being Christmas and me not being used to sherry. Be patient, sweetheart, and kiss me. We don’t have to talk to Father now. We can just tell him, make the announcement that we are to be man and wife.’

‘You’re a cruel, hard woman, Meg Turner.’ But Jack knew when he was beaten and had to content himself with kisses. Meg kept her dress buttons very firmly fastened.

Later, with the sun staining the edges of clouds magenta and rose, they ran hand in hand down the hillside. She couldn’t wait to show her ring to Kath and tell her the joyous news, tell her how Jack had made her the happiest woman alive.